


City Of Ours

by Dionyso



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desert, East, F/M, Fantasy, Gods, M/M, War, stones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dionyso/pseuds/Dionyso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cities of the East were living beings, breathing, seeing, loving through the mouths, eyes and hands of their Gods.<br/>The cities of the East were dying through the slaughtering of their Gods.<br/>But from the meeting between a falling God and a rising King, a city of the East was saved and prospered in a new form. <br/>And the God learnt what really love was about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	City Of Ours

**Author's Note:**

> This story was supposed to be posted on 22th November, but due to unavailability of internet in my house, I was forced to postpone until now. I deeply apologise for the late publication with the members of DCBB community and with my artist, Truth is the Music/Anna (http://truthismusic.livejournal.com/), who provided me amazing pieces of art in the scheduled time. I am grateful to her because she gave me a new vision of my own story, and I liked it as I liked mine. Being part of DCBB it has been an amazing experience, and I hope that you enjoy reading this story as I enjoyed writing it. With love  
> Claudia

[](http://s1152.photobucket.com/user/RosesforAnne/media/Mixes%20and%20Art/cas1_zps250a744f.jpg.html)

The Gods loved Castiel. The city was founded on the top of a hill in the hot Paradise Desert when it wasn't a desert yet. Its position was perfect for a city: naturally defended, kissed by gentle winds in summer, warmed by the light heat of the sun in the winter. There used to be a river under Castiel, which protected the city from its enemies, gave it water and provided it a fast and a safe road to the brother city Gabriel. When the cities began to fall and the area slowly turned in a desert, the river died too. The population provided the city with tall, strong and safe walls. They were decorated with stories about the city, its foundation, its life. One figure was recurring on the walls: the slender body with impressive black wings and blue eyes of the founder god of the city, Castiel. The colours of the god, blue and black, were the only one used in the decoration of the white tufaceous stone of the wall: the other details had been made by the artisans with effects of light and shadow caused by the depth of the relief. The city didn't need the wall until the first siege, five century earlier, in the first wave of conquests of the Empire. The strong and terrible imperial army had almost conquered the principal gate of the city and, after slaughtering all the archers of the most exposed side of the walls, was about to climb in the city. In that moment a flash of dazzling blue light came from the breaches opened by the army in the wall and in the principal gate, blinding the imperial soldiers and filling the breaches with solid blue stone. The stone expanded around the weak part of the wall, and incorporated the gate and all the enemy soldiers which couldn't escape to its growing. The rest of the imperial army withdrew, struck and impressed by the prodigy. The soldiers exposed to the blue light were permanently blinded by it, the ones touched by the blue stone died immediately. The message of the Gods was clear: they still loved Castiel. The citizens thanked them offering to the God of the city, Castiel, sapphire eyes in each image of him, both in the city and outside, on the walls. When the sun shone on them, they projected blue rays on the sand that people tried to avoid as much as possible. 

Nobody dared to attack Castiel since then, until Prince Dean, firstborn of King John the Conqueror, decided to besiege the city. It was the last independent city of the Empire, the last of the Sister Cities which hadn't fallen yet. Dean knew everything of the city and its God Castiel. His mother was a princess from the city and she used to tell him the same stories carved on the walls. She had an image of Castiel in her private shrine and a ring with his blue eye, statement of her identity and symbol of protection. Dean used to pray the image of the old bald blue eyed God with his mother and his little brother. He used to sing for him and repeat the same ancient and incomprehensible words his mother had made him learn by heart. When his mother was dying, he prayed Castiel for her life, begging his blue light to shine on his mother and give her health instead of blindness. His prayers were left unanswered. His mother died. His father destroyed Castiel's image, probably for rage, more probably because he had never approved the woman's strong devotion for the god, not related to the imperial pantheon. 

Dean stole his mother's ring from her finger before she was buried. For a long time he wore the ring on a necklace, concealed under his robes, but when he decided to conquer Castiel, Dean made it fit to the size of his finger and began to wear openly. In his first battle under the walls of Castiel, Dean noticed that the sun reflected on his finger in the same way the eyes of the God on the stone reflected on the sand and on his soldiers. The little blue spot which followed Dean in the daylight was a constant reminder of the miracle Castiel didn't grant his family. Even if some of his men had expressed discomfort, Dean liked to fight in the middle of the day with all Castiel eyes' reflect on the sand of Paradise Desert. He wasn't afraid of the god and that was the best way to prove it, and to show the citizens he would soon become their new King. 

That day the battle was violent and furious. Neither Castiel's eyes from the wall, nor Dean's ring reflected their blue spotlight on the sand because of the dust dispersed in the air, similar to smoke. While Dean and the King's guard were fighting at the Blue Cliff, Sam and the rest of the army were trying to break the principal gate. Robert, First Knight of King John, was defending the base camp, which Castiel's soldier were trying to conquest from its back. It was a lucky day, Dean's army were prevailing on Castiel's defenders. He knew he couldn't trespass the Blue Cliff, but they never managed to get so close to the city. When Sam's contingent would finally broken the gates, they would have had the back covered while entering in the city. Dean, encouraged by the good results they were getting, kept fighting with strength and courage. It was quite hard getting used to the fighting style of Castiel's defenders. They used to fight with small shiny blades and absolute precision in the blows. Often they managed to kill their enemies in one move. But by then Dean could recognize the type of attack they were about to do and avoid it. Another difficulty was the particular endurance of their armour, strong and light at the same time, made of a black metallic league. It was plain, except for a pair of wings carved on the shoulder in the same ancient style of the decoration of the walls. But after months of fighting, Dean and Sam figured out both how to avoid their fast and lethal blows, and overcome the protection provided by their armours. 

While he was fighting against two soldiers in the same moment, one of his lieutenant, Garth, reached his side. He began to fight quickly with one of Dean's opponent, give him few seconds to rest and plan the next moves. Dean thanked Garth with a glance and continued to fight the tall black soldier he was facing. The difference between the colour of his skin and the armour was negligible. Dean ducked to avoid his blow and headed his attack at the knees of the man. The man jumped and crouched in turn, hitting with a kick Dean's ankle. Dean lost balance and fell on the hot ground. The soldier tried to direct his blade to Dean's neck, but Dean rolled on the floor and avoided the blow. He was approached by another Castiel's soldier, a red haired woman, who tried to stab him in the chest. Dean blocked the blade with his shield and, taking advantage of the moment of lull, he stood up again. The black man ran towards him, Dean moved from his trajectory only when they were very close. He turned around and hit the man on his back. With an accurate blow, he stuck the sword in the neck of the black soldier, between the wings carved on the armour. The man shouted and fell on the ground. In the meanwhile, Garth had just killed the red haired woman. He approached Dean with a sad expression on his face, paler than usual. 

Dean immediately realised he was carrying bad news. Garth leaned toward his ear and whispered: - The base camp is clear. First Knight Robert has been killed. He died with honour. May he rest in peace. - Dean lost consciousness of himself. Few formal words scattered completely his whole world. Robert had always been more than a comrade for him and Sam. He played their father when King John was destroyed in the mourning for the death of their mother, and kept watching over them when their father died. He was his regent and taught him and Sam everything, from the politic of the Empire, to the way of fight and survive. Someone tried to drag him quickly away from the battlefield, but he stood still. He screamed and began again to fight, furiously. Garth and the other soldiers screamed with him and launched themselves with renewed vigour, encouraged by the energy of their King. 

Almost without feeling the efforts, they gained the best position they had ever occupied from the beginning of the war. They were immediately under the Blue Cliff, and they were alone. All the Castiel's defenders were dead, or had been made prisoners. Obviously they couldn't break the walls in that point. But they could climb them. Dean sent Garth to alert Sam about the progresses made and to bring the ladders. His lieutenant took two men with him and ran towards the base camp to organise the final stage of the siege. Dean rose his eyes at the Blue Cliff, visible symbol of the power of the God of the city. He didn't believe in such power. He didn't believe in gods, not any more. But he wished, only in that moment, that Castiel existed, to conquer his city, run toward him and kill him mercilessly, as he did let his mother die and to avenge all his soldiers died in the past years to conquest the city. While his gaze was lost between the confused and erratic border between the Blue Cliff and the sky, a new wave of Castiel's defender came out from the West Gate. Dean divided his men, leaving a part of them at the Blue Cliff to hold the position acquired and guiding the greatest part to fight the new enemies. Motivated by the pain for the loss and the strong desire to conquest the city, that slipped through his fingers different times when he thought he was about to take it, Dean fought with even greater courage and prowess. He had killed uncountable enemies when someone hit him as his back. Dean fell in the dust of the desert before he could avoid it. The eye of Castiel on his ring, the last image in his eyes.  
The temple of Castiel was on the last floor of the tallest building of the city. It was an open terrace, from which, only the gods, could enjoy the view not only of the domed houses and the circular squares of the city, but also of the endless desert around it. Spontaneous yellow flowers adorned the floor, the furniture and the offers left by the citizenship before the gate of the temple was sealed. They had completely covered the white marble niche which gave shadow in the day and rest in the night to the statue of Castiel. The god preserved the surfaces of the temple free from the vegetation for centuries, until his brother Gabriel, whose city had just been conquered, pillaged and burnt down, moved there. Castiel had been sad for the sort of his brother, but he also enjoyed the pleasure of his company. He had never been allowed to search comfort in anything else but the small dolls the people of the city left him in his temple. He played with them, and made up stories about them, but soon he began to crave for the people which made those dolls. He looked at them firstly from his temple, then from the sky, flying high on the narrow streets which connected the circular squares, finally entering in their houses and getting to know them. He began to care about them, more than a god should care. When they were hungry, he provided food. When they were thirsty, he pleaded the sky for rain. When they had been attacked, he used his power to protect them and make the enemies harmless for life. And yet he couldn't get directly in touch with someone who could listen and answer him, until his brother Gabriel came into his life. His brother was the reason Castiel did let the yellow flowers grow in the temple. Because they made his brother smile.  
Castiel and Gabriel were carefully following the battle beyond the walls from the temple. Castiel was pale and feverish. He was shivering, looking through the dust without even blinking. His city was about to fall, like his brother's and sister's one, and he couldn't do anything about it. It was their destiny, Gabriel told him. He only could hope that his conqueror wouldn't be so hard on the city and on his temple. But Castiel would have willing given all his treasures, all his dolls, all his sapphire eyes to King Dean to leave the city, leave toward West where he came from and never return. If he had been stronger, he would have slaughtered King Dean's Army like he had done in the first siege of the city. But he had been weakened by the fall of his brothers and sisters. By that time, he was the only god whose city was still free. Gabriel came closer, turning his worried face toward him. - Why don't you seat, little brother? We can clear your throne from the dandelions. I don't mind. We will still have thousand of them around us.  
Said Gabriel, with his warm voice, as sweet as the finest honey. Castiel clenched his hands around the rusty railing. - I don't want to seat. My people are dying. I should be fighting with them.  
\- You would fight for them, I know you. But you can't, and you can't fight with them either. Your city has to fall. It's written in the stars and we can't deny the stars. People die, cities fall and we are forgotten. - Gabriel looked for Castiel's eye, expecting to find in them the usual veil of melancholy and sadness, but he found an old expression of fury and rage. - Castiel, you can't save the city this time.  
Castiel kept ignoring his words and looking toward the walls. King Dean's army was at the Blue Cliff. They never had arrived so close to the city. And there weren't enough men to defend it any more. Like Gabriel had been saying for many years, the city was about to fall: Castiel couldn't deny it, he read the destiny of the city in the stars too. But he wouldn't surrendered willingly to it as Gabriel did. He wouldn't have given himself to his enemy, as Gabriel did. His enemy, on the other hand, hadn't even summoned him to perform the ritual. If he had done it, at least Castiel could have had the opportunity to talk with him and know him, and, eventually, if he was a good man, he could even had offered him the city. But he knew nothing about that western king, but he was killing his people and lusting the wealth of the city. He wished he could kill him with his own hands to end the nightmare the city had been living for years. He finally turned toward Gabriel. - Even if I won't save my city, I will go down with it, so if you want to leave, grab all the flower you can hold in your hands and run, leave me, like you left your people. I won't give up. There will be mess, and fire and death. I recall you do not favour these things. Go to be forgotten in another place. You are not welcome here if you do not pay honour to the place you have called home for centuries.  
Said Castiel, firmly. He turned again to the walls, ignoring his brother's gaze. If he was about to leave, Castiel didn't want to see it. He was born alone and he stayed alone for centuries. Only the people of his city gave him a reason to live. Then Gabriel came and made his life brighter. But if the city was really about to fall, and there weren't' possibility to hope in an happy ending as the last time, he would have taken the side of his city, not of his silly brother. Castiel felt something touching his shoulder. He shivered. It was a gentle and cold touch, similar to the one of the wind. It wasn't a bug, as usual. He closed his eyes, imagining the touch of a person. He had never been touched by anyone. It wasn't possible for he was a God. He daydreamed it was his brother's hand. That his brother wasn't going to leave, but he decided to stay with him and his city until the end. Probably it was only a bug, and probably it would have lasted only for few seconds more, before the creature died for the contact with his hot skin. But the touch resisted and Castiel, intrigued, opened his eyes and looked at his arm, where he was being touched. It was Gabriel, who was caressing him with one of the yellow flowers. Castiel rose his eyes and looked at his brother, surprised. - I... You... We're not supposed to be touched. We are... hot. Gabriel grinned. - You are hot, indeed, and so am I. We are very beautiful. But we are not so hot anymore. - He kept touching Castiel, doing small circles with the flower, from the arm to the shoulder, and then on the neck. Finally he caressed his cheek and his nose. Castiel sneezed on Gabriel. - Gross, Castiel!  
He exclaimed, laughing. Castiel couldn't believe to what he had just experienced. He had never sneezed before. It was like expelling something very fast from the inside of his body and it ached a little. Castiel touched his stomach, where the sneeze came from. Then he looked at Gabriel and asked: - Why?  
Gabriel's smile faded on his lips. Castiel didn't need to hear his answer as Gabriel didn't need to say it. The city was actually about to fall, and he was changing. Maybe he was becoming as human as the people of the city. - Did the same happen to you when Gabriel fell?  
Castiel asked, taking the delicate flower from the hand of Gabriel, with the usual care to avoid touching him, even if maybe that wasn't necessary anymore. - Yes, it began after I performed the ritual with my conqueror, Samuel.  
Castiel felt bad for his former attack to Gabriel. His brother had always been able to hide his feelings very well. But in that moment he was hiding nothing: all was plain and clear, written on his face. On the sad smile he had on his lips, on the suffered wrinkles around his eyes. Castiel had never asked him information about what happened to Gabriel. He tried in the last months, when he felt that his city was falling too, but Gabriel had always found a way to avoid the conversation. But in that moment he seemed honest and open, so Castiel asked for the first time openly the question he had on his tongue since his brother moved in his temple. - What happened, Gabriel? Why you had to leave the city? The ritual shouldn't be a sort of truce which guarantees the protection of the city and his God in exchange of his name?  
Gabriel sighed. He leaned his forearms on the railings and cocked his head down, avoiding to look Castiel. - That's why I did it, but that's not what I got from it. It happened exactly what is happening to you now, Castiel. Suddenly this western huge arm appeared at the horizon. It was bigger than King Dean's one. They besieged the city. At the beginning my people could hold it. But less than a year later, the food supplies were about to end. A terrible disease had spread through the population. And it stopped raining. I thought it was my fault. - Gabriel's voice lowered and he stood quiet for a while. The silence between them was thick and heavy. Castiel eagerly awaited for his brother began again to narrate. - I had been summoned to perform the ritual, twice, but I refused. And the people were suffering because of my choices. So, even if Samuel's army was winning by then, I finally accepted my fate and summoned Samuel. I didn't expect him to show up, because he would have won with or without me by then. But he came in the sacred wood. He was tall, handsome, nice. He told me that he loved my city, that's why he wanted her. He said that my city was the best he had ever laid his eyes upon. He offered me a flower crown, to replace my own I had to give him and he promised me the sweetest honey from his estates in the west. He described it to be. I could almost taste it thanks to his kind words. So I gave me to him. Should I be raw in the details, Castiel?  
Gabriel asked, chuckling. It was relieving to see his smile again. Castiel knew what the ritual was about. Offer from the conqueror. Submission of the city. Sealing of the deal. Gabriel offered his crown and his body to Samuel. Castiel shivered. His brother has been touched. And, after that, nothing was like before. His life changed completely. He wasn't a god anymore, not a pure one. A wasted god, like Gabriel used to define himself.  
\- I am sorry, Gabriel. - Said Castiel, giving him back the yellow flower. Gabriel smiled, while he took it gently in his left hand. - I am very sorry about what I told you before. I did not know what happened to your city. So Samuel didn't keep his vow?  
Gabriel shrugged. - He didn't swear with his blood, I didn't ask him to. He opened the gates thanks to my crown and entered violently in the city, killing the man and the male children, raping the women. He set fire to my temple without even giving me time to run. I was weak and wounded. I don't know how, but I was able to reach you.  
\- I was happy you came to me. I was alone and bored before. But why did you choose me? Wouldn't a lady been better for your retirement years?  
Asked Castiel, smiling widely for the first time that day. Gabriel laughed. - A lady wouldn't have allowed me to rearrange her furniture. And what do you think I do while you are lost in the stargazing? I am a very respected customer of Casa Erotica, the brothel in Solace Gardens. - Castiel opened his mouth, pretending to be shocked. Gabriel put his hands on his waist and grinned. The carefree moment did not last long. After few seconds, Castiel turned again his gaze to the walls. His face concerned, again. - If I could do something brother... I like your city and your people, I really do. If I could avoid the fate of my own people...  
\- There isn't much we can do. King Dean didn't summoned me to perform the ritual. Probably he is planning to take the city with his own forces and, eventually, he will succeed. The situation in the city is not as desperate as in Gabriel, but our food supplies will run off in least of a year. And we don't have enough replacements for the army anymore. Sooner or later the city will fall.  
Admitted Castiel, for the first time. He left the railing and walked toward his throne. He sat on the full layer of yellow flowers and covered his face with his hands. He could not imagine what happened to Gabriel, because his city had never been taken, but seeing the pain on the face of his brother impressed him more than he could have expected. Probably it was the very first time Gabriel had been completely honest and serious with him. Gabriel had been deceived by Samuel, but King Dean's intentions were very clear. Castiel felt a strange thing in his eyes, they were almost burning and they were wet. A drop of warm liquid fell on his cheek and reached his mouth. It was salty. Castiel didn't need to ask Gabriel about that. He had seen tears before on the faces of his citizens.  
\- Castiel, don't. - Commanded Gabriel, sitting on the armrest of the throne. Castiel didn't move his hands. He didn't want to show his weakness to his brother, even if he clearly understood what was happening. - Tell me what you did the last time someone dared to touch your beloved city.  
Castiel thought to the first siege he faced. It wasn't the end of the city, the stars were in his favor. He was young and strong. It was different. But he smiled, because Gabriel was asking this to cheer him up. - You know what I did. To summarize, a hundred of deaths and a mess in the walls. I don't like the Blue Cliff, it ruined the excellent work of the carvers.  
\- But you saved the city.  
Pointed out Gabriel, with an inexplicable enthusiasm in his voice. - I did.  
Admitted Castiel, showing his face to Gabriel, curious about the point it was about to follow. - Why don't we do a mess again?  
Castiel couldn't believe his ears. Gabriel was suggesting to go against the fate, while least than half an hour ago he was trying to persuade him to accept it. Castiel moved his hands away and rose his head toward Gabriel. - I am weak, I can't do it again. Look at me, I am crying!  
He indicated the salty path that single tear left on his cheek. - You are crying because you are a baby. But you are not alone. I am with you. Let's make a mess and try to save our home. If we fail, at least we didn't let the city go down without trying. But if we succeed, I want a temple, a statue, and amber eyes in my images on the walls.  
Proposed Gabriel. Castiel didn't know if that could work. But they had the opportunity to slow down the conquest and figure something out more in the time earned. Castiel stood up and reached again the railings. He watched the army fighting immediately outside the principal gate of the city. They were too close and the defenders of the city were mixed to King Dean's soldiers. They couldn't use the same strategy of the first siege. - What if... - Castiel turned back and walked in circle around the niche which covered his statue from the sun. Gabriel followed him, repeating twice his last words. Castiel rose his hand, asking Gabriel with that gesture to help. - If we could.... Wait Gabriel. - Castiel turned toward him. - If we do this and we win... I don't want you to move in another temple. You can have my throne and my dolls. And we'll ask the carvers to make your stories on the wall too. And you'll have your amber eyes. But don't leave me alone.  
Castiel waited impatiently Gabriel's answer. Gabriel smiled and nodded. Castiel smiled too. - Thank you Gabriel. But what can we do for the city?  
Asked Castiel, tilting his head and looking steadily in Gabriel's eye. - Maybe we can push them back to their camp. We could be wind. Desert wind. Our people are used to desert storms, but King Dean's men have never experienced a serious one. And we can help our men, because we would hit from their back and push them toward their opponents. Wind at their back and dust in the eyes of the enemy. Blinding them, in your style, but less permanently this time. The best we can do with the strength we have. Do you like this plan?  
Castiel nodded, and replied with enthusiasm. - Let's do it, brother.  
\- Let's kick them asses!  
Replied Gabriel. Castiel removed his crown and left it on the throne. He didn't want to lose it in the flight or in the fight. Then they immediately ran toward the railing and jumped, spreading their wings in the as soon as their feet left the floor of the temple. Castiel's wing were wide, black and strong. They projected a long shadow on the street of the city he was flying over. Gabriel's wing were thinner and smaller than Castiel's. They were golden and shining thanks to the effect of the light. They seemed invisible to Castiel in some moments. His brother was faster than him. Castiel tried to reach him and apparently he did, but when he tried to catch Gabriel foot's with his hand, Gabriel turned his face and blinked to him, before to further increase the speed of the flight. They laughed together and played to chase each other until Castiel felt his air was running out. It was a strange new sensation, like the sneeze and the tears. But, to some extent, it was beautiful. Castiel knew what was happening was not a positive thing, but he liked to feel. He wished to save the city, with all his heart. But if he successfully protected the inhabitants of the city and if Gabriel had stayed with him, even if the life as he knew it was about to end, he could have enjoyed those new feelings, and maybe, the freedom to laugh, to love and to live, as his citizens he used to watch over and protect.  
When Gabriel and Castiel arrived at the wall, they looked in each other's eye and nodded. Gabriel began to change his essence and Castiel followed him. They became one pure energy and they launched themselves on the people were fighting, raising with them the sand of the desert. They began to whirl around King Dean's men and tried to avoid, when it was possible, Castiel's men. They threw all their energy on their faces, scratching and blinding them. Castiel didn't remember how loud were the cries of pain, but he didn't let them move him. He couldn't have hit the enemy with this energy if Gabriel wouldn't have offered his help. And, thanks to him, Castiel felt powerful again. In a different, better way. He was confident they would have saved the city together. They were already fighting for it. They pushed King Dean's army back from the walls and attacked every contingent nearby, until Castiel felt a blow in his side, and without he could prevent it, his substance began to change again. Suddenly his weight was to much for his wings and he fell, tumbling ruinously on the ground. He felt at least five different kinds of pain and his mouth and eyes were filled by the sand. Castiel coughed and then called the name of his brother. He called it again, and again, until his brother answered with his name and a weak rattle. Castiel rose his head and saw Gabriel had landed not so far from him, with his wings tangled in unnatural angles, dulled by the dust. He immediately managed to reach him. Gabriel had a spear which passed through his chest from side to side. His robe was soaked with blood. Castiel knelt down next to him. Probably Gabriel was experiencing a further type of pain. - Gabriel, what happened? Will you be ok?  
Asked Castiel, desperate. The noise of the army, probably coming back to its base camp, was distant and confused behind them. Castiel didn't care anymore about what was happening, he only remained on alert to protect themselves from a possible attack. Gabriel smiled. - I was too old and weak to such long flight...  
\- It's not true, you are better than me, you are faster and more experienced. What can I do? Let's go back to the temple, I'll carry you. I can save you.  
Gabriel grabbed his wrist and squeezed it between his fingers. Castiel looked at him, surprised. He was touching him and he wasn't burning. For the first time in his life, Castiel had been touched. It was warm, and pleasant, and sad, because neither him, nor Gabriel, were what they used to be anymore. - You are always so stubborn, brother... But I am lost. Save our city.  
\- Gabriel, no...  
Exclaimed Castiel, but Gabriel smiled and winked. - And remember my amber eyes, you promised...  
Gabriel closed his eyes, and few second later, he stopped breathing. His finger, around Castiel's wrist, loosened, and his arm slid heavily to the ground. Castiel leaned toward him and tried to hug him, that action so simple and common amongst the people of his city, but so difficult for him. Because it was his first time, and because Gabriel couldn't hug him back. He could have hugged him while he was still alive, but the life drained from him incredibly fast. Castiel pressed him into his arms, feeling again hot tears flowing from his eyes on his face. Castiel closed his eyes and mourned on his brother for a very long time, until there weren't any more tears. Then he separated from the hug his brother could never return, and looked at his body. He was paler than ever, dirty, broken and disarticulated. Castiel decided that he didn't want to remember his brother like that. He would have given him the amber he asked, and deserved. Castiel lifted his bust and tried to disentangle his wings. He spread them on the ground, like as they has been spread in the sky, and tried to straighten the feathers. He combed Gabriel's hair with his fingers and directed weak wind on him to clean him up from dust. Then Castiel broke and extracted the spear which killed his brother and tossed it away with rage. He couldn't do anything for the wound, but he took off his robe and tried to cover with it the huge blood stain. He touched again Gabriel's hands, squeezing them between his. - When the city will be saved and your death avenged, I will come back to you, brother. I will bring you back home. You can have my temple, it has always been too big for me alone. - Castiel let his hands go, and positioned them along his sides. Then he began to cover Gabriel's body with liquid, pure, clear amber, letting penetrate the resin deeply, melting it with his brother's skin, eliminating progressively the difference between the two essences and making it one substance. - Farewell, Gabriel.  
He told when the process was finally completed. His brother's appearance now was fixed forever in a tough stone of the very colour of his eyes. The body had been permanently merged to the ground by the heat and the resin, only Castiel would have been able to remove it, when he could have provided a formal burial in his own temple. After that extra effort, Castiel was exhausted and he had barely the energy to refold his wings and walk to a calm place to recover himself and spend the night. He had never been so tired and dirty. Luckily he wasn't so far from an oasis in the desert, an area that hadn't been hit by the secular drought that had turned the valley into a desert. He crossed many men in his same situation on the way, but none of them approached him, probably because he totally looked like one of them, torn and dirty after a rough day of war and loss. 

Dean opened his eyes, and they ached terribly, like he had burning needles in them. He was almost forced to close them again, but he fought to keep them opened, to understand what was happening. He didn't recall immediately who he was, where he was, why he was in a stack of corpses. He was pretty sure not to be dead, because he felt the weight on the bodies upon him, the stink of the blood, the bright life of the desert in his eyes and the pain in them. He dug his way off from the corpses that blocked his body, and got up, realizing he was in their base camp. He looked at his body and at his arms and he realised that, as the other bodies, he was completely covered in dried sand. It was difficult even bend his fingers. But he was alive, not like all the people that were resting upon him. Not like Robert. The thought of Robert brought him back completely to the reality and put end to the confusion he had in his mind. A pain in the chest added to the pain in the back and to the diffused sensation of sting on his skin. Robert had died. They were winning the battle. He had been hit to his back. He looked around to try to understand what happened later, and why he was misguided for dead. He was in their base camp, and the usual space they destined to the exposition of the dead soldier was full, probably that was the reason why his men put the other corpses in a stack and not in line on the ground. Almost all the bodies in the pile were covered in sand, just like him. Dean realised that there was a possibilities that also his brother could have been amongst the bodies. There had always been this possibility since Sam became of age and joined the army. If he had died and he was recognisable, his men would had exposed him in his tent. But if he was in his same condition... Dean reminded when he used to pray Castiel with his mother for their family and for his little brother that was about to born. And then when they used to pray together. And he almost began to mutter one of the prayers in that ancient language his mother taught him. But he stopped. It was pointless to pray. Sam was either dead or alive: in both situations Castiel wouldn't have helped him like he hadn't helped his mother in her time of death. The only way to discover the truth was going to his tent. Dean had waited too long. It was the moment to take back his place of commander and face the consequences of the day of battle.His men were performing the usual post-battle activities, but in mournful silence. They had lost their position, it was clear, with a lot of casualties. He headed toward his tent, where he expected to find Robert's body. Before to enter, as was custom of his people, he deposed his knife and tried to remove his armour. The sand made the task harder, because it almost encrusted the parts of the armour to his robe and skin. Dean didn't do it with care and accuracy, he almost ripped off the metal plaques, because he couldn't stand to wait longer. When he opened the curtain, he immediately looked for Sam, and found him knelt at Robert's body, which had been arranged on the table where they used to consult the maps. He rose quickly, threatening Dean with his voice, for he wasn't carrying weapons. - Who are you? What do you want?  
Dean immediately rose his hands. He forgot the reason why he was in that pile of bodies was his face was unrecognizable. - It's me, Dean. - Dean tried to scrub himself, but the sand was particularly tough. - It's me.  
He repeated, looking his brother straight in his eyes and humbly opening his arms. He only wanted to kneel beside Robert, like Sam, and mourning for his death. But his brother reached him and hugged him tightly. Dean did the same and they remained in that position for a very long time. Both of them had feared for the death of the other. Both of them were destroyed for the death of the man that had played their father when he left them alone. After a while, they left the other and went together next to Robert's body. He had been already cleaned and composed for the funeral that would have take place after the sunset, with all the men died on that day. But before that, they were supposed to check all the men covered by sand, for they could be still alive, as Dean was. - I can't believe Robert died. He taught us half of the stuff we know.  
Exclaimed Sam. - Now we are actually alone.  
Replied Dean, touching the dead man's hand. He talked with him in the morning for the last time. They complained for the food. They commented the desert's hot weather. They wished each other good luck for the incoming battle. Like every morning. Dean wondered if Sam had the occasion to talk with Robert before he died. Sam didn't spend so much time in the base camp anymore since he fell in love with the physician Jessica, who lived in the followers' camp. They stared silently at Robert's body, until Dean managed to brace himself for the question he was about to ask, and for the relative, dreadful, answer. - What happened, Sam? When I lost consciousness we were winning.  
Sam breathed heavily. - I had just got your order to get the ladders at the walls. Even if I knew about Robert's death, I followed the orders. We took the ladders and approached the walls, when a sandstorm came from the city and hit us frontally. We never experienced such a storm. It wasn't supposed to come from that direction, usually they come from our back and we are able to face them. But this one was very hard, the wind was terribly hot. My contingent was spared because we were far from the city. But almost all the men that were at the wall died. I thought you died too Dean. Nobody could find you. Only the men which gave their backs to the storm in the proximity of the walls survived. We have never had so many losses. You have to decide immediately what to do. The moral in the camp is, obviously, the lowest ever. And they blame Castiel.  
Sam's account only confirmed his fears. Probably that had been the worst day of the war. A sandstorm from the city had never happened. It was physically impossible, the winds couldn't blew with the necessary strength to form a storm from that side. And obviously the soldiers attributed it to a supernatural power. But it hasn't been a supernatural event: the god hadn't shown his annoying face demanding tributes. He hadn't slaughtered his army in tall sparkling blue flames. Probably a storm like that was unlikely, but not impossible. - Do you blame Castiel too?  
He asked Sam, sadly. - I don't. But I understand why the army do. You haven't exactly shown yourself as a merciful man to them. They say that you don't believe in the gods.  
Dean laughed in a bitter way. - They are right. But I have never been disrespectful of anyone's religion. They can worship whatever they want, as long as they fight properly. And they never complained.  
Pointed out Dean. - They did, recently. - Dean widened his eyes for the news. - This siege is lasting too much. It's the longest one after Michael's siege. Most of them come from warrior's lineage: they know the wars in which their ancestors earned the name and the glory. They know that we are doing it wrongly...  
Dean interrupted Sam. - What are we doing wrongly? What are you talking about? We are following our father's book of war and, until today, we had Robert's help and advice! We did exactly what their ancestors did, in a better way, because we have never spared time and resources in updating our equipment of weapons. They wear stronger armours and they bear lighter swords. What are we doing wrong, Sam?  
Asked Dean, upset. Neither Sam nor Robert had ever mentioned those complaining. He hadn't noticed discontent amongst his men. Was he blind, or was it sudden? - You didn't performed the ritual, Dean. - That simple sentence struck Dean as a lightening. He explained why he didn't performed the ritual, both to Sam and to his army and they seemed to agree. Dean was about to reply and remember that to Sam, but he stopped him, continuing to talk. - I know, Dean. You don't need to explain your reasons again to me. But you should to our soldiers. Are they still strong, after seven years and after all we had lost, especially today? - Dean stood quiet. Even after Robert's death, Dean didn't think that the ritual could actually have done something to help their army. More men could have helped, better armaments could have helped, maybe having some luck, once in a while, could have helped. But not an obsolete tradition. He was about to explain again his reasons to Sam, when he talked again. - Why don't you do it, Dean? You don't have to believe in it. You have only to perform it as if you believed.  
Concluded Sam. Dean looked at him, angry. - So you think it's wise to kneel before a God our men believe responsible for what happened today? I should pay honour to the same god who killed a great part of my men in these years? How could I look in their eyes after? It's a betrayal, Sam!  
\- Maybe it's a betrayal for what you believe. But right now you are betraying your men, because you put your ideology before their interest!  
Probably it was the grief for Robert that made Sam so angry toward him. But Dean didn't feel as he was betraying his men. He dedicated to the war every moment of his time. Conquering the city was his last thought before closing the eyes at night, and his first thought in the morning, after opening them. It was his mission, his focus, his life.  
But in that moment, with his brother shouting angrily at him and the most close person to his father he had ever had dead, and the city still far, unbent, unbowed, unbroken after so many years of war, Dean asked himself if all of what he did in those years was actually worthy or it was only a stupid, useless and dangerous desire. He felt alone and all the soldiers of his army, and the people of Castiel, and the goods of the city, and the Blue Cliff and the God he didn't want to bow to itself couldn't fill that empty painful space in his heart.  
Dean contemplated the pale face of Robert, toughened by the death and, pointlessly, prayed to him asking advices about what to do next, how to answer Sam, if to perform the ritual was actually the right move, as he used to do when his counsellor and friend was still alive. But that time Robert did not answer. Prayers are not to be answered in Dean's experience. Robert had become far and silent as a God. This thought broke completely Dean. He bit his lips while his vision became blurred for the tears that were about to flow from his eyes.  
\- I shall be back for the burial.  
Announced Dean with broken voice, leaving the tent as he was, without armour and weapons, and trying to avoid Sam's disappointing gaze. He walked fastly through the base camp, looking straight ahead in the direction of the stables, where his black horse Impala stood out amongst the grey, white and brown horses of his fellow knights. He tried to conceal his pain and to stop the tears as long as possible. He wasn't the only one who had lost an important person in that battle: probably each soldier of his army was related, to some extent, to one of the dead people which lied above or next to Dean.  
When he reached the fence, he immediately enter in the stables and rode Impala, without caressing or speaking to him as he was used to do before a riding. He was sure that Impala would have understood him even without words from his mouth. When he was on his back, Impala was always reactive, ready to obey and follow the slightest movement of Dean's body. It was almost like Impala was a prosthesis of his body, controlled by his own mind. In fact, he asked Impala to run, and the horse left the fence immediately, leaving behind him only a thick cloud of dust and sand.  
Dean rode in the desert for an indefinite time, without paying attention to where he was directed, trusting only his horse for the route without either fear or precautions. He didn't have space for anything but pain and disappointing. When he was in the deep desert, where there was anyone but him and Impala, he finally let the tears flow from his eyes for the father lost to conquest a city which would have never been his. 

[](http://s1152.photobucket.com/user/RosesforAnne/media/Mixes%20and%20Art/dc4_zps25200d07.jpg.html)

The fresh feeling of the water on Castiel's skin was so gentle and pleasant that he felt almost like there was two different versions of himself. One was the Castiel who was enjoying the moment of pleasure and who was feeling the world as he had never felt it before, diving deep in the sensations offered by the new condition of his body and sinking sweetly in the cool waters. The other Castiel, instead, was the one shattered, broken, destroyed by the sorrow for the death of his brother and tragically resigned to the unavoidable future of loneliness and losses that was about to begin. Their city, called Castiel, but by then Gabriel's and his, was about to fall and the moment in which Castiel would have had to surrender to its fate was getting closer and closer. In that very moment, with half of his face dipped in the waters of the pond of the oasis, Castiel suddenly understood the craving of men toward the divinity and toward the hope of a life after the earthly death. Castiel clasped his hands and wished for himself and for his brother Gabriel, but also for the brothers and sisters lost for so long that he could hardly remember their faces and names, the possibility to meet again and live together in a new dimension, possibly less painful that the one they used to know. These thoughts, more than the cool water, and of the sharpen pebbles under his feet, and of the constant sorrow in his heart, made him realize that he was something different than he was before the rise of that day.  
Castiel closed his eyes, shutting off from his mind the blue of the sky and the green of the florid vegetation around the pond of the oasis. For few seconds the image stood in his vision, changing slightly in the intensity of its colours. The sky darkened as it was a pupil, and the green circle of the palms tree became an iris. Castiel contemplated that strange image of an eye and reluctantly let it go when the darkness advanced behind his eyelids. That darkness was so overwhelming that more Castiel focused on it, more the pain became lighter to bear. It was so easy loosing himself in the darkness, and so sweet. Castiel tried to indulge in the darkness more and more, and willingly tried to cease to exist. He asked himself if he actually was, as a God, able to do it, he had done so many weird and extraordinary things in his life, dying couldn't be so difficult at all, even with his reduced powers. So Castiel focused more, and tried to dissolve his body in the cool water, almost reversing what he did with Gabriel's body, who he bounded strongly to the desert with the most precious and golden amber he could produce. Castiel kept trying, letting the water passing through the cells, through his mind, he tried to extinguish the burning pain in his heart with the water, he tried hard, and he almost lost himself, but the pain was still there and had Gabriel's smiling face. And to Gabriel followed his yellow flowers, and the green eye in the sky. Dying was almost as hard as living.  
Castiel's stream of consciousness was suddenly interrupted by a movement in the water and by a flowing energy which distracted him from the though of Gabriel. By then that energy was the only thing he could pay attention too. Castiel opened his eyes and realised he was underwater and that a body had just fallen in the pond, changing the temperature of the water and its energetic balance, a change that only Castiel could perceive as God. The energy was a man, who had fallen into the pond and was trying to ascend back to the surface, shaking the water around him, spreading his strong energy toward Castiel. That energy was so strong, and hot, and as painful as Castiel could image his own was in that moment. In that energy he could feel love, loss, guilty, disappointment and more love. Love was the most strong component of it. And Castiel felt attracted by that energy as he was a magnet and the fallen man was iron. He felt the immediate necessity to approach him and swam toward the man who was drowning. Castiel reached him and, without any hesitation, as he had made the same gesture one thousand lives before and one thousand after, grip his left shoulder tight and took him back on the surface, feeling the air in his lungs as a relief, almost as it was his first breath. Castiel opened his eyes, burning slightly for the combined effect of the water and of the sudden strong light, and saw again that green eye in the sky, lighter than before. He didn't let the eye to distract him again, he had the fallen man in his arms and that was his main concern in that moment. He swam with the man until they reached the edge of the pond, where Castiel laid him on the hot sand, letting him rest between the shore and his body. The God rested his head on the man's chest and breathed heavily with him, following the rhythm of his breath. He kept squeezing him between his arms, as hard as he did with Gabriel after his death. But hugging a living being, so strong and hot was a total different matter. Castiel could hear the noise of his breath, which progressively became slower and slower, his constant heartbeat, the motion of his cells, the sweet sound of his soul. And the man's hand which rested on his neck, and then on his shoulder, first just lying, then holding him slightly.  
\- Gratitude. - Muttered the man after a while. His voice was hoarse and broken and in it resonated all the feelings Castiel tasted in his energy before. Castiel stood quiet and kept resting on the man's chest. He had spoken in the language of his city's enemies. Castiel didn't noticed it immediately. He had heard the feeling of gratitude before the word. But the word then came. And it was a foreign word. The man probably was a soldier of the enemy's army. Castiel couldn't explain why, but that didn't made a difference for him. He couldn't part himself from the strength and the heat of the man's body. But he stopped hugging him. He caressed the arms of the man and then his shoulders, touching some scars, tracing two profound red marks in the skin, the place where probably the armour of the man weighed its burden. Castiel felt the rough sand stuck to the man's skin and smelled the blood and the sweat on him. He was weak. The sand storm and the amber for Gabriel had significantly weakened his powers and probably, after that day, nothing would have been as before, but he still used as many residual energy as he can, to heal the cuts on the man's body. He rose his bust and sat next to him, trying to scrub the sand from the man's skin, gently, wetting his hands once in a while, until the man took his wrist in his hand. - Who are you?  
Asked Castiel, forcing his eyes into his gaze. Castiel couldn't avoid to look at his face. And he was struck by it like it was a lightening. Castiel had already seen that shade of green of his eyes. It was exactly the same colour of the eye in the sky behind his eyelids. Castiel stood silent, looking in his eyes, staring at the soul behind them. The man was beautiful. And his soul was as green as his eyes. He forgot the man's question, until he repeated it, in his foreign language. Castiel didn't know how to answer. He actually didn't know how to define himself in that moment. He wasn't a god anymore. But he wasn't a man either. He was only sorrow. But maybe the man didn't want to know what he was. He simply wanted a name. And so Castiel, hesitantly, told one to him. - I am Gabriel. And you?  
Asked, even if the name of the man wasn't so important for him. It was his energy and his soul which defined him as a beautiful being. - I am Robert. But Gabriel is not your name.  
\- And Robert isn't yours.  
Dean smiled to the weird man who had saved him from drowning. He was weird but not stupid. He was concealing his identity, as he was doing. And he spoke those few words uncertainly, as he wasn't speaking his mother tongue. So Dean spoke to him in the musical language of Castiel. - I don't need to know your name, I only want to know if you want to kill me. Because if you want, I am afraid I have to kill you first.  
The man smiled. Dean asked himself who smile immediately after being threatened with death. Someone who doesn't fear death. Or someone who doesn't care of life any more. - If I wanted you dead, I would have left you drowning in the pond.  
Replied the man, with more confidence, fluently in the language of Castiel. Dean was sure he was from the city, but he was also sure the man wasn't a soldier. His body was pale and soft, even if he had enough strength to carry him back on the shore. And he was right. He saved him from drowning. - Gratitude. - Said Dean again in a different language that time. He rose his back completely and sat next to the man. He fought back the compelling desire of touching him again, as he was touching Dean before. Dean couldn't explain why, but the touch of the man made him feeling better. Maybe it was only the effect of the aftermath of the events of the day. The sandstorm, Robert's death, the fight with Sam, and, last but not least, the escape of Impala, which left him drowning in the pond. The man who saved him and hugged him until he felt better was the only one who was good with him that day. And he was an enemy. And he had beautiful deep blue eyes. But that meant nothing. And a nice smile. And that meant nothing too. He was a kind stranger and a kind enemy. But Dean desperately wanted to feel his hands on him again. And maybe knowing his name. Only to thank him. And to avoid to kill him when he would have taken the city. If he would ever have taken the city. Dean decided he didn't want to think to the city for a while. He was perfectly aware he had to return to the base camp at the sunset for the burial of Robert and of the death soldiers. But, until then, and until Impala would come back to him, he decided to take time for himself, to think about what happened, to decide what to do in the future. When he rose his gaze again, the stranger was still staring at him. - I know I am dirty. Battle was particularly rough today, you know. My men are convinced your freaking God puked sand on us.  
The stranger smiled again, but that smile was different from the sarcastic one he was wearing before. It was a guilty smile. But he couldn't seriously believe that the God of his city was actually responsible for the sand storm. Dean hoped the blue eyed stranger from Castiel was smarter than his men. That he didn't believe that there was actually a God who was protecting his city. But, even if he believed that, Dean couldn't find a reason for that little guilty smile. - I am quite confident Castiel hasn't ever puked. Gods cannot puke. Sometime they get drunk, however.  
He stated, with another different smile on his lips. It seemed he was reminding a circumstance in which a God he used to know puked, maybe on him. Dean chuckled. - How many Gods do you know?  
He asked to the kind smiling stranger. - Not many. - He answered immediately. - Only one. - Continued. Then he stood quiet for a while. Dean didn't break his silence. He was, inexplicably, curious to know how far the kind stranger would have gone. - Gabriel. He was the God of an old city not far from here. The city fell centuries ago. I think it was a beautiful city, but I like Castiel better. It's my city. I like my city... - He paused again. A sad look came over on his face and darkened his blue eyes. - I love my city.  
Dean felt guilty. His words were uncanny. All the Gabriel thing, especially. If the city fell centuries ago, how the man get to know its god? And why Dean was listening to him as the Gods actually existed? But then Dean found an explanation. Maybe the kind stranger was a priest. That would explain everything. His weird speech, his kindness. His halo of authority. - I don't believe in Gods. But I like your city too. My mother was from Castiel. Oh, man, she was so beautiful. - Dean said, smiling. Being next to that man, he could almost remember her face. It was strange, usually it was so difficult and painful thinking to her, trying to remember her eyes, her voice. But in that moment it was surprisingly easily. Dean closed his eyes and listened to her, singing. After a while, the stranger laid his hand on his shoulder. Dean kept his eyes closed. The voice of his mother grew stronger. Dean felt again the tears in his eyes, but those tears didn't bear pain. Without even noticing, he rested his head on the stranger's shoulder, who hugged him again tightly. Dean lingered in the memory of his mother, until the heartbeat of the man overlapped the woman's voice. Dean immediately moved, realising that maybe he went too far. - Are you a priest? Or a shaman? How did you do this?  
Asked, moving away from him and sitting closer to the pond. He put his feet in the water and spread his fingers in the little round pebbles on the bottom. - I am nothing. - Said the man sadly, sitting next to him again. - But hugging is easy, if it doesn't hurt yourself or the person you are hugging. You simply have to close him, or her, in your arms, like this. And if you are lucky and they hug you too, it's more pleasant. I kinda like doing it. If you want I can do it again. 

[](http://s1152.photobucket.com/user/RosesforAnne/media/Mixes%20and%20Art/dc3_zps03045d95.png.html)

He said, smiling again. Dean looked at him, he wasn't understanding if the man was joking or if he was seriously trying to teach him how to hug someone. But the thought of being hugged by the man wasn't unpleasant at all. - Show me how to do it, please. - Said Dean, smiling and opening his arms. The man smiled more. And it was doubtless an happy smile. Dean welcomed the man in his arms and let him squeeze. It was weird, the man actually didn't seem proficient in hugging. Dean smiled more and closed his arms around the man. - Am I doing it right?  
He asked the man. The man nodded against his chest. Dean caressed his wet hair. They stayed like this for a while, until the man muttered something. Dean didn't understand immediately, so he asked him to repeat what he had just said. - Please, don't conquer my city. Don't hurt my people. - Asked the man, with despair in his voice. - Ask your commander if we can pay a ransom. You're a righteous man. He's a righteous man too, I am sure. Let us live, please.  
Dean wished he didn't ask to repeat the words he didn't understand. Those words, broken and heartfelt, exploded in his stomach and left a very bitter feelings. A feeling so strong that made Dean reconsider his choice to attack Castiel in the first place. Even after all those difficult years. Even after the sandstorm. Even after Robert's death. That kind stranger made him feel like the most dirty thing in the world, calling him righteous man. Dean heard again the accusations Sam made to him before he left the base camp on Impala. Sam, the man, they both suggested him a way to avoid a further loss of lives. Even if the most sure way of all to avoid more losses would have been leaving the city to its own life forever. Giving up a dream that wasn't his own, but his father's. Dean had followed his book of war. Dean had attacked Castiel in the first time to gain a reputation as strong and influential as his father's. Because he had the duty of bringing glory and wealth to his family. He had the duty to follow his father's legacy. And to do it, he was supposed to conquer more cities than his father. He was pursuing that goal since he was a child. Since his mother died. It was the only thing which kept him alive. And, looking back at it, it was a miserable thing. Dean felt almost like he had never existed as person, but only as his father's shadow. Who was the man that was hugging him so tightly, almost begging him as he knew who Dean actually was? And why he made him feel as years of his life were suddenly useless? Dean forced the man to look at him. He stared deeply in his blue eyes. Maybe he was a fool. But in that moment, he decided that he wouldn't have attempted to conquer Castiel any more. That he wanted to pass through its gates not soaked in blood and dust, but holding the hand of the kind stranger.  
Castiel looked in the man's eyes and soul for a while, smiling at him, still wondering why he felt compelled to make him that request. A request that would be lost in the wind as soon as the man would have returned to his camp. He was a soldier and he hadn't the power to ask the mighty conqueror Dean to remove the siege. In his eyes, however, Castiel could read the will to do it. He was sure that the beautiful man would have asked it if it was in his power. And, for Castiel, it was enough. He closed his eyes and leaned toward the man, touching gently his lips, trying to kiss him. He had only watched kisses before, he had never performed one. He had watched mothers kissing their children, women kissing their men, friends kissing between each other. Each kiss he had ever seen was different from the other. He had seen kisses of affection, empty kisses, kisses of love, angry kisses, kisses of devotion, kisses of hates, deadly kisses, kisses which left a mark behind them, kisses which were bites. He asked why he was kissing that man, and the answer wasn't clear, but it was immediate. It was the same thing that compelled him to reach him in the water. He felt attracted by him, he felt as he already knew him, he felt as he had to do it, anyway there wouldn't have been a future. He wondered if Gabriel had ever kissed someone. As a God, he couldn't have done it. But Gabriel totally was the kind of God which bends the rule around him to do what he wanted. Castiel wanted to kiss the man who didn't reveal his name, and he did. He kissed his lower lip, and then his upper lip, and then he kissed the corned of his mouth and then again his upper lip, and then is tongue. The man kissed him too, stronger, wiser. Castiel suspected he already knew how to hug, if he was so proficient in kissing, and smiled. The man smiled against his lips too. - Can't we talk about Castiel for a while? I want to take a bath with you.  
Castiel felt sad. He was Castiel, and he wished he had told to the man. But if he had told to him, probably he wouldn't have kissed him. Castiel surprisingly thought that sometimes kisses are more important than cities. And bathing with the man became more important than his city too. He should have felt guilty about it. But the guilt and the sorrow had been dissolved in the kisses. Castiel knew they would have come back. Sorrow and guilt always return. But for the very first time since he noticed that he was existing, Castiel claimed something only for himself. And told yes to the man's request with another deep kiss.  
Dean and the stranger ran in the pond and dived together, splashing water all around them. While Dean sat in the cool water, the stranger swam around him, going down and up the surface and throwing him drops of water. He was smiling fully. He was more beautiful with that smile on his lips. Dean followed him until he couldn't feel the pebbles under his feet any more. When the stranger noticed it, he took his hands and let him close his arms around him. He carried Dean around for a while, and then brought him back in a place where they could sit, and the water would have covered them only until their chests. There the stranger kissed him again, parting his kisses equally between underwater kisses and surfaces kisses. He kissed places that nobody had ever kissed, and some of them were very interesting for Dean. Other made him laughing, other made him shivering. For a while the man quitted the kissing marathon and began to wash him. Keeping to go up and down, he carefully cleaned each part of his body with gentle caresses, until he scrubbed away each grain of dust that was stucked to Dean's body. Dean felt very well, and when the man began to wash his hair, Dean barely could believe he fought in a rough battle and survived to a sand storm in the morning. The strange massaged his head delicately and alternated the soft movement of his hands with kisses on the back side of his neck and on his ears. The kisses on his ears were weird, but nobody has ever kissed him with such attention and affection. That was a lie. His mother kissed him with love and affection. But his mother was his mother, and nothing in the world could give him back those lost kisses. Whores' kisses were passionate, but empty. The man's kisses were naïve, delicate and profound. Dean turned around to face the man. He didn't want to limit their contact to kisses anymore. But he kissed again on the mouth anyway, before to announce: - Stay still, now it's my turn.  
Castiel relaxed his back and let the man begin to touch his shoulder. The man should have touched many people before him. He was very skilled and his touch made him feeling a lot of different sensations. Or maybe those feelings were so intense because it was the very first time Castiel was touched. And being touched was amazing. Castiel closed his eyes and began to remind all the words of the songs of love he had ever heard from the people of his city. All of them mentioned the kisses of your loved one, all of them mentioned their kisses, all of them mentioned unique and strong sensations. They talked about making love, and what the man was doing to Castiel should have been making love. Castiel didn't know it certainly, but what else could have been so beautiful and pleasant? The yellow flowers on the floor of his temple were for Gabriel, forever. But Castiel was wondering, if the city would have lasted at least until the next spring, to ask for another temple to the population and to grow on it flowers of the same colour of the man's eyes, to give them to him as present for what he was doing. Obviously it wouldn't have been enough. But Gabriel loved flowers, they made him happy, and Castiel would have made the man happy too. If Gabriel asked for amber eyes, Castiel could have make for the man emerald eyes. And what more could he have offered to him? What the men like? Castiel tried to think to what the people of his city used to like. They liked to sing. And they liked dancing. And eating. Some of them liked praying. The children loved toys. He loved dolls too. Did the man loved dolls? Castiel would have given everything to him. If he asked him the city, probably he would have given it to him. He would have fought until the very last drop of his blood to not give his city to his enemies, but he would have gladly given it immediately for love, if the love was granted to his people too. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at the sky, which was changing colour. When the night would have come, and the sky would have become black, it would have been exactly as the man's eyes. Castiel couldn't wait for it. Among the many love songs he could remind, there wasn't one which suited perfectly to the man who was challenging the water for giving him pleasure, but maybe when the night would have come, Castiel would have had enough word to sing on the man's soul melody his own and first song of love.  
But he almost began to sing with vowels only when the man touched him for the first time between his legs. Castiel felt as he was loosing his breath again. The feeling was so strong and unexpected. The man opened his legs and licked and bit his thighs and then kissed and licked the part of his body that Castiel had always considered useless and awkward. They progressively moved together nearer to the shore of the pond, where Castiel laid in the sand and let the man touch and kiss him everywhere more comfortably and without the limitation due to the water. He could hold the breath quite long, but when he hadn't the necessity to rise up the water to breathe, the effect of his movements on Castiel grew stronger, and, after a while, Castiel couldn't think to anything else in the world but the man he wished he could call with his name.  
Dean was aware he was driving mad the stranger. It almost seemed he hadn't ever been touched by a lover. Probably that was the truth, if he was still learning how to hug people. Dean gave the best of himself because hearing the noises and the foreign words of the stranger was strangely pleasant. It was pleasant, but he was also the only thing he could do. Even if he had wanted to stop for whatever reason, he couldn't stop. He wanted to kiss that man, he wanted to touch that man, he wanted to please that man, he wanted to fuck that man. He wanted to make love with him and he wanted to know what was his true name. He wanted to whisper it, he wanted to said it loudly, he wanted to scream it. He wanted to come back to the base camp and say to his brother "Sam, this is …" whatever was his name. He wanted to pray it to Robert, although he already knew there wouldn't have been answers from him. He took the stranger's penis in his mouth and sucked it without rest, clutching his hands, enjoying his muttered words and, later on, his screams. After not much time, the man came in its mouth. His flavour was different, extremely sweet, it reminded something like honey to Dean. And his semen, as his body, was warmer than any other body Dean had ever laid hand on. Dean let him rest for a while on the shore, smiling to him once in a while, and watching him blush every time their eyes met. - Was this your first time? - Asked Dean, after a while, caressing his hair. The man nodded. It seemed that he had a question for him, but he wasn't sure of it, or maybe he couldn't decide the proper words to build it. - What, Gabriel? - The men didn't like he called him Gabriel. It was evident. Dean kissed him on the cheek. - Do you want to give me your true name? - The man shook his head, with a terrible shade in his eyes. He was afraid of saying his name. Dean caressed him. - It's ok. I don't need your name. But I might need to answer the question you have in your mind.  
The man though about it for a while. Then he looked at Dean with a very serious expression and asked: - Was it making love?  
Dean didn't expect a question like that. The answer could have been extremely short or extremely long. Or another question at all. Dean decided to go for the long answer. - Love is complicated. Sometimes you want desperately to love, because it's right and appropriate, but no matter how much you force yourself, you don't love. You feel affection, you want to protect, you don't want to disappoint or break, but you don't love. And then sometimes you don't want to love, you don't even think there is the possibility to love, you think you are and you won't ever be able to, but suddenly love strikes you as the sandstorm of this morning, and it destroys everything you believe, and all the things you put around you as protection. And this is love, love is painful, love is something which breaks you usually. But it breaks you in a right way, you know? Did you feel well while, let's say, I was making love to you? - The man nodded, very seriously. - I am happy about it. So, I have to say it to you. You broke something. But in a right way. So yes, I was making love to you.  
Concluded Dean. The man stared at him, like he could read how truthful he was directly from his soul. - Can you make more love to me, please?  
Asked eventually. Dean smiled. He had many concerns about more love-making. But, even if he wasn't able to read the man's soul, he could simply saying he meant every word. So Dean laid on him and kissed him again, muttering all the sweet words he knew in the language of Castiel, not so many, but enough to let the man feeling he was cared. He removed his robe, and wondered for a moment why the man was naked, why his robe wasn't in sight on the shore of the pond. But Dean was naked too, and it really wouldn't have mattered until they were there, alone. And when they would have parted, Dean would have given to him half of his robe. He didn't want the man to walk naked in the proximity of the base camp. - If you change your mind, please stop me. Immediately. If I am hurting you, please stop me. If it hurts it's not making love, you understand? - The man nodded, and kissed Dean, and whispered Castiel's word for gratitude. Dean put his hand between his thighs again, going further that time. He sank one finger in the man's ass, and began to spread him, helped by the movements of the man, who kept moving toward him. After a while Dean could sank the second finger in him. The man shivered and hugged him, tighter than the first time he did it, in the cool water. The time between the second finger and the third finger was longer. And the time between the third finger and Dean's penis was even longer. But the man didn't stop him or complained even once. When Dean finally settled inside him and began to move, they both relaxed and they drew near each other in a way that Dean would not have believed possible. It was almost they both were a pond for the other, and they both were diving into each other every time. When Dean came into him and the man kissed him gently and muttered gratitude, not in Castiel's language, but in his native language, Dean knew that even if he didn't know the name of the man, even if that evening was the first and the last time he met him, they actually made love. And for that, every action and step which guided him on the man's path, had been worthy.  
The sun was about to set and Castiel was happy. Gabriel was still dead, amber in the desert, and their city was still in danger, and probably he would have never seen again the man who made love to him, but Castiel was grateful for what he made him felt, because at least by then he knew that something good to him could still happen. Maybe there was hope for the city. Maybe he would have met that man again. Maybe he would have met Gabriel again too, at the end of the story. But he wouldn't have tried to disappear from the existence anymore. He would have fought, until his last drop of blood, not for war but for love. The man, after he made love to him, had hugged him tightly and kissed him a lot of times, and told him sweet words both in his native language and in Castiel's language. But when the First Star began to shine high in the evening sky, a sad expression came on his face. - I have to go. Many soldiers died today and I have to bury them. I have lost a person very close to me.  
Castiel felt the sorrow for Gabriel again, stronger. Because to his sorrow the man's sorrow was added to his. - Who was him? What was his name?  
Castiel asked. - His name was Robert. I used to call him Bobby. He was a good man. He was dearer to me than my own father. When I found myself in times of trouble, he helped me. I don't know what to do now, without him.  
The man was feeling the same things Castiel was feeling. Castiel wished he could go with him and hug him while he was burying the man that was so important to him. But he had his own burden to carry. And he had to let the man go. So he nodded. He rose and offered him a hand to make his rising less difficult. Castiel kissed him and then collected from the shore the man's robe. He tried to let him wear it, but the man ripped it in half and gave the bigger piece to Castiel. Castiel hugged him again, accepting the gift, even if it was not necessary. He could have spread his wings and flied to the city without anyone seeing him, but he was glad to have a memory of the man who made love to him for the first time. He kissed him again, while he draped the robe on his hips. - If when the war will finish... If I can find a way to save the day... If... - Told Dean, with a concern clearly visible on the small wrinkles around his eyes and on the long ones on his forehead. Castiel didn't know how he was supposed to stop the war and saved the day. He asked him too, but it was only a petition, he already knew that the man couldn't do anything to save the city against the unfair claims of the conqueror. - If.. If you survive, and try to do everything in your power to survive, please, come to the camp and ask of the knight who rides Impala. It's me. My horse, the one who threw me in the water, is Impala. I hope to survive, for meeting you again.  
Castiel kissed his worried forehead. - You will. I'll watch over you.  
Dean chuckled, and the smile got extended from his lips to his eyes. His soul was clearly amused by Castiel's statement. - And how exactly are you planning of watching over me? - From above. Replied Castiel, without adding anything. He took Dean's face in his hands and kissed him, one more time. Then he slowly left him and walked in the desert in direction of the city, waiting to be enough far to spread his wings and fly away. After about half an hour of walking, he met a solitary black horse walking peacefully in the sunset. Castiel immediately realised he knew, nominally, that horse. - Impala! - He called and the horse came to him. One of his paws was lightly wounded. Castiel knelt and put his hand on the bleeding wound, trying to heal it as much as possible. Luckily the wound wasn't deep and serious, and Castiel could heal it completely with the energy left after he healed the man. - Your rider is on his way on that direction. Please bring him back home.  
Dean didn't actually knew how he would have returned to the base camp. He didn't even know where the oasis actually was. Impala brought him there. The sun was setting and soon the ceremony for the burial would have begun. Sam would have been furious. But most of all he would have disappointed all his men. Dean did not regret the time spent with the kind strangers, but he regretted to not have asked him help to come back. Even if he was from Castiel, they could have shared the journey for a while. But by then there was nothing more to do but trying to orientate following the First Star. The First Star, first gift of the Gods to the men, always shine on Castiel for two hours after the sunset, so walking in her direction would have guided him at least for a while. The Gods had been kind to him, at least once in his life time.  
Dean walked for an hour and, more closer he got to the city, more a strange orange flare lightened the sky. Probably it was the fire of the pyres, but usually the body weren't burnt until the late night, after the prayers, the sacrifice and the ritual meal. Probably he had been walking longer than he realised. But why the First Star was still in the same position if it was so late? Was he lost? Was the ceremony of the burials held in a different way due to his absence? Dean tried to walk faster, but luckily he didn't have to do it long. Impala, as if the Gods existed and they were being seriously kind toward him, ran toward him and stopped when he reached his knight. He bowed to let Dean ride him. Dean looked at him puzzled. He had never done such a thing. Dean would have doubted he was Impala. But that wasn't possible. Impala was Impala for certain. That horse was his horse, so maybe he bowed to apologise for leaving him before. - Gratitude, Impala. - Told seriously Dean, wondering if that fluke wasn't actually the kind stranger who already had begun to watch over him. - From above.  
He repeated, beginning to run as fast as possible. And the orange flare became more orange. And then red. And when Dean finally saw the city, understood. It wasn't the fire of the pyres. Castiel had been set on fire and it was burning. Dean commanded Impala to go faster and reached the base camp, where there was no one but the dead people, still stacked untidily as in the afternoon. The flames, so high to reach the sky, so hot than the heat was perceptible from the base camp, were burning the city from the inside. They were conquering Castiel. And he wasn't with his army. They were conquering Castiel. And they were destroying the city. Right when he had decided to let it live and prosper. Dean immediately thought to the kind stranger and prayed his mother, Robert, and even the God of the city, Castiel, to save him. To bring him back to him. Dean didn't care about his father anymore, he didn't care either about the reputation or the glory: he only wanted the kind strangers in his arms, and he wanted to know his name, to whisper it in his ear and to reassure him that everything would have been fine in the end.  
Castiel would have never forget the imagine of the city which appeared before his eyes that night. The sky was clearer than any night he could have remembered, and it wasn't black but orange and red. The green eye he left over the oasis was only a far memory which Castiel couldn't even say if it was real, or maybe only something his mind had built to avoid to think about what was happening to his city, to his home, to his people. The city was burning from the inside. The air was so hot that was almost painful to get closer. Castiel forced himself to fly into the heat, because he had the responsibility to try to save his city and its population, or at least to die in the attempt of doing it. He entered in the city from the Blue Cliff and noticed immediately that at least half of the city, the poorest part of the city, where the houses were very close to each other, tall and built in wood, was already gone. The fire were eating it constantly and only the noise of crackling and collapses could be heard from that area. Part of the fire was already weak, but in the rest of the city it was quickly advancing. At the same time, from three gates, the army of the mighty conqueror was entering into the city. The soldier of Castiel were blocking them on two fronts, but a great part of them was already directed toward the temple and the city centre. While they were advancing in the city, they killed all the children and old people unlucky enough to be on their road and took the women as prisoners. Some of them had already left the ranks and had stopped to rape a woman or pillage a rich house. Castiel flew close to the street and landed next to a group of soldier which was raping a girl. He didn't have weapons with him, so immediately used his power on one of them, putting his hand on his forehead and burning him from the inside. The other soldiers tried to fight him, but when they saw the consequences of him on their fellow soldier, ran away in direction of the rest of the troop. Castiel picked the girl up, stole a sword left on the street and flew again, overcoming in flight the running enemy soldiers and reaching a group of women, children and old people running toward his temple. He flew behind them, checking that there weren't soldier which were following them, destroying obstacles on their path, deflecting the flames when they were too close to the people. When they reached the temple, Castiel landed and broke the closed doors of his temple. - Go upstairs, don't stop until you reach the last floor. Don't close the doors behind you, I will protect you and send as many people as I can. Now, go!  
Commanded Castiel. He remained at the temple's door, letting go inside all the people who could reach it, and helping the ones which were followed by the enemy's soldiers, or carrying the ones which weren't able to help, until one messenger from the city's army reached him. - Our army has been defeated. They are inside the city. They are coming.  
The end had come. Sooner than Castiel expected. Before he could do anything to prevent it. Probably he would have died before the next day. He couldn't save the city. He couldn't give Gabriel the amber eyes he deserved for his heroic death. He couldn't have saved his people, and probably also the ones he was temporarily protecting in his temple, were about to be captured as slaves. There was only a thing he could have done for them. One last crazy attempt. - Go to the last floor, please. Close all the doors behind you. Find my crown in the temple and throw it down from the roof. As soon as you can.  
\- Yes sir.  
The soldier ran into his temple immediately. Castiel breathed, clutched in his hand the sword he had stolen, closed his eyes and cut quickly his breast and both of his hands. He wouldn't have had time to grow flowers for the man who made love with him, but he would have dedicated his last act of love to him. Castiel created a new cliff from his blood to seal the doors of the temple and made it in emerald stone of the very same shade of green of the man's eyes. He closed his own eyes, feeling the life slowly draining from him and remembering how beautiful was being kissed by the man, how breathtaking was having his mouth on him, how close they were when the man was making love to him. Castiel remembered his smile and the sound of his voice, and remembered sadly the promise he made and that he couldn't have maintained. He remembered his words about what love was and remembered that love was, according to the man, broking themselves, but in a good way. For good. So Castiel broke himself more, cutting also his wrists, and letting more blood to flow on the green cliff, until he heard someone calling his name. It was the messenger of his army, calling him from the roof of the temple. He had found his crown, which fell from the roof to reach the floor near Castiel's feet. Castiel took it in his hands and stained it of blood, but he didn't wear it. He wasn't a God anymore, he didn't protect his city, so he wasn't worthy of wearing it. He knelt next to the cliff, letting his blood flow and waiting for the mighty conqueror.  
Dean didn't encounter any resistance on the street toward Castiel. He entered the gates he was dreaming to conquest for years without even thinking about it, checking around him with the hope to find the kind stranger. But he only saw dead people around him. Every man he saw, he prayed it wasn't his kind strangers. But some of them were burnt, or made unrecognizable from the blood on their faces. Dean decided to quit the searching of the man and to ride in direction of the centre of the city, where probably the people had sought refuge. If his kind stranger was alive, there were more possibilities he was there. And even if he wouldn't have found him, he would have found Sam, the only one who could have given the order to attack and burn the city. Some streets later, Dean found Sam and his contingent of men, which were directed to the temple, to take possession of it. The men left to Dean the space for reaching Sam, at the head of the procession. Dean sided Sam and took it for an arm, to confront him. - What have you done? You ruined everything. You haven't taken a city, you destroyed it!  
He shouted angrily. But Sam wasn't impressed by him. He had a proud expression on his face, and the fire reflected in his eyes made him appear as a demon. - You leaded this army for seven years and you accomplished nothing. I took the control of it this afternoon and I entered in the city and conquered it. Now the city is ours. We can rebuild it. Without those uncanny blue eyes on the wall. We can give it our father's name. Or our mother's name. We can rebuild it without all that wood. We can make it better. We can invite people from the capital to come and live here. We can organise festivals. I could marry Jessica here. We can be happy here.  
He said, and he looked sincerely happy about it. But Dean wasn't happy. He kept thinking to the petition of the kind stranger. He wasn't a righteous man, as the man proclaimed. He was nothing, as the man proclaimed of himself. - You destroyed an ancient city, you slaughtered its population, you bent its spirit! It isn't a city anymore, it's a mountain of ashes. And you want to give to a mountain of ashes our mother's name? You want to marry the woman you love on the soil soaked of blood? Why you asked me to perform a ritual this afternoon, to respect a God who doesn't exist, and you took the city without any concern for the safety and the lives of the people which actually lives here?  
Sam looked at him and rose his shoulders. - The city is taken. You can come in the centre to take the temple and the crown with me, and help to rebuild the city and to rule it, as our father already did in the cities he conquered, or you can go and live a life without meaning, and dying without giving honour and glory to our family's name.  
Dean seriously considered to leave his brother and his army and running away from the impious action they committed. They were supposed to bury their dead that night, but they left their bodies alone in the night, without paying them the deserved regards, and slaughtered the population of a whole city. But Dean had to pursue every possibility left to find his kind stranger alive, and going to the centre of the city was one of them, so he rode silently at the flank of his brother. One of their man removed his helmet and armour and gave them to Dean. Dean refused them, but Sam forced him to wear them. - We have to take the city properly. We have to show ourselves as conqueror. You are still the commander in our soldier's eyes. And for the people of the city too.  
Dean wore the helmet and the armour. - I am no commander. You took the city. You name it, you rule it, you do whatever you fucking want with it, until someone kills you in your sleep or with poison. There is neither honour nor glory in what you did, and I wish I didn't share my name with you. I'll stay until tomorrow night, when we will bury together Robert. Then you will never see me in hell.  
Concluded Dean, stepping back from Sam's flank and following him between his men. He kept praying to find his kind stranger, and to find him alive, and to be able to save him from the merciless decisions his brother could take about the city and its population in the next hours. The gods listened to him again. His kind stranger was right there, in the main square of the city, knelt, with a crown in his hands. He was completely soaked with blood and he seemed about to collapse on himself. But his gaze was strong and still on him and Sam, alternating between them. Behind him there was a shining green stone wall, who prevented the access to the temple of the city.  
\- Mighty conqueror of cities, King Dean, I am Castiel, God and protector of the city. I gave it my name, I made it prosper, today I am here to plead you on behalf of his people. I offer thee my crown, I offer thee my name, I offer thee myself. Please save the lives of the people which sought refuge in my temple, and therefore, are under the protection of the sacred law of the Gods. - While Castiel was speaking, Dean alternated his gaze between the man, or better, the God, and his reflection on the stone wall. Staring at it, he noticed that it was of the same colour of his eyes. He opened his mouth and felt his heart breaking in his chest, understanding what happened and why Castiel was bleeding. Love breaks you. Love broke Dean. Love broke Castiel, who decided to bleed for his city more than once in his history, and gave to the protection he chose for the last night of the city, the colour of Dean's eyes. - King Dean, the city is yours, the crown is yours. Please allow my people to keep their life and their freedom, in exchange of mine. 

[](http://s1152.photobucket.com/user/RosesforAnne/media/Mixes%20and%20Art/cas4_zps1b337f21.jpg.html)

Dean dismounted, not paying attention to Sam's reaction. He was still the commander, and he would have taken advantage of his role before his men one more time. Until Castiel wouldn't have been safe and sound. He reached Castiel and took the crown from his wet hands. The crown was a simple silver circle with blue stones around it. The God had his eyes directed to the ground and hadn't recognised him. Dean removed his helmet and looked at him. Now he could understand why he was so afraid to declare his name. He was a God and a enemy. But still he saved Dean, he washed him with care, he kissed him with affection. Now it was Dean's turn to save him. And his city. To let it live and prosper, as he asked. - I, King Dean, hereby take possession of the city. I pronounce all the people survived free to go or to stay. I command that they will be under the sacred law of the Gods until their last breath, and, therefore, that nobody can take their life or freedom but them. Moreover I proclaim my brother, Samuel, lord of the city. Come Samuel, kneel to receive your crown. - Invited Dean. Sam dismounted and knelt before Dean. It was clear, from his gaze, that his ideas about the destiny of those people was different, but by then, he couldn't make anything to fight Dean's will without alienating the favour of his army, which was assisting at the scene. Dean crowned Sam with Castiel's crown. - My fellows comrades, people of Castiel, Castiel, I pronounce Samuel lord of the city. He will, from now on until his last breath, rule, protect and let prosper it. He will personally care the welfare of the survivors and the rebuilding of their houses. He will take care of the burial of all the dead of the city and he will grant the widows and the orphans of what they need to live a dignified life. From now on this city will be called, in honour of my brother, "Samuel of the evening". Rejoice, comrades, brother, citizens. A new day has come for us all.  
Concluded Dean and left Sam without even looking at him. That was their goodbye. His men cheered and clapped their hands. They circled Sam and rose him to celebrate his coronation. He approached Castiel and leaned toward him. His gaze was empty, he was exhausted. He let himself fall when Dean was enough close to catch him in his arms. Dean held him strongly and called Impala. The horse approached them and bowed to let Dean ride him. Dean settled Castiel in the saddle and sat behind him, closing his arms on the waist of the bleeding God to keep him still and safe during the ride.  
Castiel didn't remember anything after he discovered that king Dean was the man who made love to him in the afternoon. He woke up in a tent, a ray of sun warmed pleasantly his feet. He had been washed. His wounds had been medicated and banded. A man was sat next to him. His hand was resting on Castiel's chest. It was king Dean's hand. The man smiled to him warmly when he noticed he was awake. - Good morning, Castiel. I am so happy you survived through the night. The physician did all he could to save you. I am afraid you are not a God anymore. You have to be more careful with your blood from now on. - Announced Dean, stroking lightly his hand on Castiel's chest. It hurt. Castiel complained with a moan. - I am sorry Castiel, I am so sorry. I had to give your city to Sam. It was his, it was too late. But he is now bound to protect your people and the city. He can't kill them, he can't make them slaves...  
Castiel rose his arm with a terrible effort and put his fingers on Dean's mouth, asking him to leave him space to speak. - So you were Dean, the King and Conqueror. And I was Castiel, the God and protector of the city. - Castiel whispered, smiling lightly. Dean joined his smile and nodded. - And you made love to me. And we made a mess, together. - Dean looked him, not understanding his statement. Castiel began to speak again. - You have never summoned me to perform the ritual and I have never summoned you. But we performed the ritual anyway. I gave myself to you, and doing that, I left the city without protection, because I hadn't given you my crown too, that would have granted to you the sacred right on the city. So now the city is your brother's... How did he called it?  
Asked Castiel. Dean laid next to him and took his hand. - I called it Samuel of the evening, to distinguish it from the other Samuel, which our grand-grand-father conquered.  
Explained Dean, but Castiel shook his head. with decision. - He didn't conquered it.  
\- Didn't he?  
Asked Dean, curious. Castiel shook his head again. - He performed the ritual with my brother, Gabriel. He told me that the details of that event were quite raw. I told you my name was Gabriel because of him. He died yesterday, in the sandstorm. Like you told your name was Robert.  
Stated Castiel, more than asking. Dean nodded. - Was the sandstorm your work?  
\- Yes, it was. - Admitted Castiel, lowering his gaze. - We had to do everything we could to try to save the city. You were winning yesterday morning, and we didn't want to give you the city. But we were wrong, we didn't know you. We didn't know you were a righteous man, and that we should have protected the city from other dangers.  
Dean smiled bitterly, hating to be called righteous man, especially because he couldn't do anything to act like a proper righteous man and save the city. - I understand what you did. I couldn't believe that Castiel actually had a God who cared so much about its fate. I kinda admire what you did. - Revealed Dean. Castiel tried to turn of his side, to look better at Dean, but his back was hurting too much to move. As the first pleasure he experienced the day before had been strong and overwhelming, the first physical pain that day was strong and overwhelming as well. Dean got closer to him and caressed his face lightly. - Be careful when you move. You haven't been kind to yourself yesterday. You have lost a lot of blood and you hurt yourself in more than a way. It isn't only love which breaks the humans, Castiel.  
Told Dean, his voice was sweet and caring, and became even sweeter when he pronounced his name so softly. - I wasn't the only God who protected the city. Gabriel moved here when his city was conquered by your great-great-grandfather. He stuck with me since then. He talked with me, he played with me with my dolls and he helped me yesterday. He gave his life for the city, and I could never honour him as he deserve. I couldn't even give him a proper burial.  
Said Castiel sadly. Dean caressed his face. Castiel closed his eyes, to stop the tears that were springing from his eyes for his body. - I couldn't bury Robert too. I had to left the base camp immediately yesterday night. My brother wasn't pleased of my actions. And I bed he didn't like the name I have given to his city on his behalf. But I can bury Gabriel for you. Where is his body?  
\- In the desert. Near to the oasis. - Explained Castiel. - I turned him in amber. It's favourite gemstone. We can wait I can ride again, and doing it together, if you still want to help me.  
\- I do. - Said Dean, seriously. - You were an amazing God. You did such beautiful things with stones. The Blue Cliff. And the Emerald Gate. I used to hate you, because you didn't answer my prayers when my mother was dying. She was from your city and she used to worship you, but she died and you didn't save her. That's why, amongst all the cities I could choose to conquer, I chose yours. I wanted to avenge her. But now I know that you care about your people. You almost died to save just a bunch of them when everything was already lost.  
\- You would have done everything to save your men too. - Said Castiel. Dean hoped he didn't dare to call him righteous man again. - And now we are a King without kingdom and a God without a city. What we can do with our lives?  
Asked Castiel, instead. That was even more difficult to answer than the righteous man statement. - We still have Impala. And we still have our lives, and this tent. We could wait you feel better and then burying Gabriel. After that we can travel until we find a nice place to live. Do you need to protect another city?  
Castiel shook his head. - I like the plan. I never saw anything but Castiel. Do you need to lead another army.  
Dean's turn to shook his head. - I might need to make love to you again, though.  
Castiel laughed. Dean leaned his head toward him and kiss softly his lips. - And I might need to make love to you. Is it possible, right?  
\- Yeah.  
Dean and Castiel visited all the new and the old cities. Castiel meet his brothers and sisters that were still alive, and mourned with Dean the ones which were lost. They visited together the first Samuel and they found a lot of images of Gabriel. He was still beloved and worshipped in the city, together with Dean's great-great-grandfather. They shared a temple, as a couple. Dean and Castiel laughed about it, wondering what Gabriel could have argued about it. Castiel bought a statue of Gabriel and, with the last drops of God's power in his body, honoured his vow to Gabriel and made him beautiful amber eyes. They travelled to his tomb and left the statue on it, as new marker of the place. From Gabriel's tomb it was possible to see the old Castiel. Dean and Castiel camped near to the city for days, before to take the courage of wearing heavy cloaks and approaching its gate. The Blue Cliff was still there, shimmering in the sun, as majestic and impressive as Castiel had left it. Dean kissed him and complimented for his courage and his artistic skills. Castiel didn't took Dean seriously and grumped to him, but after few kisses he returned to smile. They entered in the city and it was shocking for both of them. The city had been completely rebuilt in white stone. The streets were tidy and clean and there was no traces of the devastation which had struck the city just few years early. Dean had seen the inside of the city only in the tragic night of his destruction, so he didn't expected to visit a place so beautiful and full of life. Castiel, on the other hand, used to know his own city, which has changed several times through the centuries, but he had always been there and it's difficult to notice the changings if you have them constantly under your eyes. In few years he admitted the city had changed significantly and for good. He could still recognise the familiar faces of the citizens, who preserved their genetic heritage through the centuries, but he could also notice new shapes of faces, new colours of eyes and hair, and tallest people wandering in the city. It almost felt as visiting a whole new city. Dean and Castiel sat in a tavern and ate the typical soup of the city, as good as Castiel could remember. They also shared a glass of deliciously sweet eastern wine. It tasted like strawberry. The host told them that the commerce in the city was particularly florid, especially in the summer season, when there was a regional fair attended by merchants from every corner of the world. They rented a room in a nice pension and Castiel made love to Dean on the soft bed. They fell asleep, and when they woke up in the morning, Dean made love to Castiel. They walked in more streets and finally, looking in each other's eyes, decided to visit the old temple of Castiel and the square where Castiel made an emerald gate to save his last citizens. The square had been turned in a garden. The emerald gate had been moved at the centre of the garden, and the sun, passing through it, reflected the colour all around it. Castiel particularly liked all that green and kissed Dean in the green shadow to reiterate his appreciation. They subsequently entered in the temple, which was opened to everyone. It was a very nice place, full of women chatting and working, men discussing and children playing. There were a lot of dolls around. Castiel smiled. Dean sat on the floor and asked Castiel to sit and play with him. Dean had never played with dolls before. Castiel had never played with dolls with Dean. Their dolls met, argued, fell in love and made love. Not very different from what their owners used to do daily. They left their doll in the open boxes and decided together to take the very last step. They climbed the stairs to the roof, where there used to be the temple that Castiel called home. They passed the last step, and the temple was still there, almost as Castiel had left it. Full of the yellow flowers that Gabriel loved. The only addiction was a new statue of Castiel in the middle of the temple. His old crown was incorporated in the statue. A slender woman with grey long hair was praying near to the statue. She seemed familiar to Dean, but he needed to get closer to recognise her. She was Jessica, the woman Sam would like to marry after the conquest of the city. She was still beautiful, even after all these yers. But she looked sad. Dean, without thinking, called her. She rose his head. - Dean! - She turned her gaze to Castiel. - Castiel.  
She muttered, almost astonished, and knelt before him. - Don't. I am no God. I am Dean's husband. Did you marry Sam too?  
Jessica nodded. - Can we meet him?  
Asked Dean, suddenly happy to meet again his brother. He talked long with Castiel and they agreed that, after all, he did a very good job for the city. - You can't. Sam died two years ago. - Castiel hugged Dean immediately, gripping his shoulder tight as he did the first day he met him. Dean stood silent, but rested his head on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel knew that Dean missed his brother everyday. That they left each other in a bad way, and that Dean hoped to meet him again, and that was one of the reasons that brought them to Castiel again. - He told me you would come back, Dean. He told me until his last day. He was sorry for what he did to Castiel. He was sorry he disappointed you. He loved you Dean. Our first born is called Dean. Our daughters are called Castiel and Mary. Do you want to meet them?  
Dean left Castiel's hug for a moment, just to look Jessica while he was accepting her offer. Castiel kept Dean's hand in his, while the woman gave them information about how to reach their house. The streets had new names, but Castiel understand where the house was. He was used to such changings in the city. He protected it for a very long time. When he was a God, his time used to flow so slowly. Days were long, and years were longer. Then a war came, he fell in love, lost his city and became human. From that moment on the time began to flow extremely fast. He and Dean travelled for the whole world, they made love countless time, they grew older together. And they came back home. Things were different, but the city was still alive. Castiel had seen people kissing, people singing, people dancing, people arguing, people giving birth, people playing with dolls. He honestly couldn't feel the difference at all. And without the crown on his head, he felt lighter and happier. Maybe when Sam took the city, he broke it. But he broke it in a good way. Like love does. Jessica had left them alone. Dean was staring at the sky. Castiel dragged him to the balcony and showed him the city as he was used to observe it for centuries. He took Dean's face between his hands and kissed him deeply, to pour all his love, affection, devotion, and gratitude into him. He showed him the skyline of the city. - Look how beautiful our city is, Dean. Our city. Mine, yours. Gabriel's, Sam's. Our city.  
\- Yeah.


End file.
